Prologue: Spiritual Bond
by Fofa
Summary: My take on the past of Ecruteak's Gym Leader, Morty. K plus just in case. Reviews insure that this continues!
1. Chapter 1

(One thing that always irks me about Pokemon is that they never go into the pasts of their diverse characters. So I decided to write my take on the past of my favourite gym leader, Morty.

I don't own Pokemon, or it would've been far more serious.)

Prologue: Spiritual Bond

Part 1: Months After

"Hugh! Hugh! HUGH!"

"AAAHHHH!"

A young man began to tumble down the building's dark blue roof, having lost his balance. When he did land, he landed right on his face.

"Ow! Father! I was trying to think, and now you've broke my concentration!"

The young looking, yet middle aged man crossed his arms, "I'd rather have it that you concentrate on finding your brother instead. I already sent Cless to find him, and he hasn't come back yet."

Hugh began dusting himself off, starting with his light brown hair. "Oh. Knowing him, he might be slacking off and be the lazy bum that he is instead."

"Don't worry, I'll find Morty." He reassured the man behind him, after he finished brushing the dirt off his black jeans, and walking off.

"I think I know where he is anyway." He thought to himself.

A little while later, he finally came to a familiar place.

The graveyard.

Hugh gave one of gate doors a slight push, letting the passing wind carry the creaking sound with it. His eyes scanned the area, and he saw what he was after when he walked up a few aisles.

A small, young boy was curled up in a fetal position, lying down on his side at a particular grave. His hands were curled up at his knees, and his shoelaces were untied. His messy blonde hair, along with his sweat pants and blue sweater had small specks of dirt all over them, but the kid was asleep, so he didn't notice.

The man couldn't help but smirk to himself, picking up the boy. "Still miss Mom, do you?" he asked the sleeping child while picking him up. Adjusting the child's position so that he was doing a piggyback ride, Hugh left the graveyard, after taking a quick peek at where the boy was.

"Hey! Hugh!" A voice called him. Turning his head, he saw a young preteen, with such rugged clothes and dark blonde hair that matched, running up to him.

"Cless! Where were you? Father and I thought you were slacking off again." He questioned.

Cless immediately made a sour face, "I was not! I was looking all over town!"

"Right."

"How'd you find Morty here anyway?" Cless asked, changing his expression from a sour one to a serious mood.

Hugh turned his head to the three-year-old, "Morty still misses Mom the most, even though she died in September and it's November now."

The middle sibling sighed. "Oh."

Both of them began to walk home, while Cless was staring at the ground, "It's a shame Mom had to die while Morty was still so young. I'm willing to bet he still doesn't even really remember her that much."

The older brother looked up to the sky, "Yeah. And I think Mom had a soft spot for him too."

A short period of silence held over the two boys, when Cless decided to speak up, "Say, did Father ever tell you what Mom was sick with when she died?"

Hugh shook his head, "No. He didn't even mention it to me, let alone talk about it. I guess he just doesn't really want say anything about it."

Cless looked up to the heavens, and rain clouds were beginning to loom all over the sky, "It looks like it's going rain. I think we better get back before we get caught in it."

"You're right."

The little kid then dashed off, "First one there's has to wash and dry the dishes!" he yelled before picking up some speed.

"Hey! You're not the one with a three-year-old on your back! Get back here!" Hugh half-yelled, trying not to wake up Morty.

(Later that night)

"Phew, I think that's the last of my work." The aging man, Teru, mumbled to himself after stacking up a pile of papers. Being the college professor he was, he had to have everything in neat piles.

At the corner of his eye, he saw that one of his marking pens rolling off his desk. As it fell to the floor, he reached down to grab it.

When he looked up after grasping his object, he was surprised that he saw Morty standing nearby, facing him with an inquisitive look on his face.

Both the sleeves and the pants on his moon and Teddiursa print pajamas were too big for him, but he didn't seem to care (he actually preferred it that way). The Gengar plushie he was holding perfectly contrasted with the bright blue on his pajamas, as well as his white socks.

"Morty, what are you doing up at this hour? It's past your bedtime." He gently asked his youngest son.

The boy just remained silent, getting a tighter grip on his toy, and also looking down slightly. When he looked back up, he took something hidden from his father's sight, and handed it to him.

"I thought so." Teru thought to himself, taking a look at the picture contained in the frame.

It was a picture of Morty in his mother's arms, a few months before she got sick and passed away. The wind was blowing a gentle breeze at the time, making the woman's long, blonde hair go along with it, and some of her bangs were covering her amber brown eyes. Her white dress also followed.

The toddler was also smiling. How long has it been since Teru last saw him smile? Before his mother's death, Morty was a happy, cheerful, and curious toddler. After she died though, he became very depressed, unsociable and withdrawn.

Why did Morty like that particular picture so much? Out of all the pictures of the two they had in the house, he always had that one with him. Maybe he thought his mother was at her most beautiful look in that one. Or maybe he liked the day the picture was taken?

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts, "Daddy, why did Mommy have to die?"

Teru froze. How could he explain the concept of death to a three-year-old who was still mourning over such a devastating loss? Then again, Morty was a rather intelligent kid for someone his age, he just might understand it.

He crouched down and put a hand on his son's shoulder, "Morty, this is a rather complicated subject and well. ." He began to trial off, thinking of an explanation.

But Morty was just staring at him rather blankly.

"You'll understand when you're older," Teru sighed, "but you have to get back to bed." He finished, slightly nudging Morty to his room. Morty just walked the rest of the way, closing the door after him.

Now it was Teru who was looking down, "If only we could've saved her . . .but there was nothing we could do." he mumbled to no one. After saying that, he shook his head.

"Morty, I'm sorry. I wish this didn't have to happen to you." Was his final thought on his mind for that day.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2: A Glimpse into Childhood

The serene environment was calm. Not a single conversation between peers, or any Pokemon scrounging the ground for food. Only the wind caused the branches held by the trees to sway. The river was pressing its clear waters to pass through. And the dirt trail was a plain as could be.

Well, until a shoe came in and kicked a nearby pebble into the flowing river, carrying it with its burden.

Long pant legs caught small specks of dirt and carried them along, making it more of a brown than the intended black color. Small hands were tucked into the pockets, with the excessively large sleeves sagging around them. Dark blue stripes at both the elbows and the center of the light blue shirt made the colors stand out.

A quiet, serene hum could be heard from the one walking by, observing his surroundings. Morty, who was now seven, liked taking walks all over town, doing nothing more than watching things, and even watching people (without doing much of a part in their lives).

He was still quiet, shy, a bit depressed and withdrawn, but he was more outgoing and friendly than he was four years prior. Everyone in town also commented on how well behaved and polite he was. Even his own father wished that Cless were like that at his age (Hugh laughed at the comment, though Cless just turned his regular sour face and left the room).

Stepping on a log that was across a small, tight path in the river, he brought his hands out of his pockets, having them out to the side. Carefully moving forward, one step after another, he was getting better about falling into the flowing waters.

Which unfortunately didn't seem to be the case this time. As he placed his left foot in position, it slipped. Having lost his balance, "AAAHHHH!" he cried, landing on his side in the river.

"Owwww. . ." he moaned quietly to himself, getting up from the fall. True, the river wasn't very deep to begin with, but he still didn't like getting his clothes wet. Good thing he didn't get hurt, apart from a few sore spots here and there.

"Oh great. Now I've gotta to change." Mumbling to himself, he squeezed the cuff of his sleeve, and got up out of the river. He walked in the direction that he came; the way to his home.

Upon entering the two-story house (the second floor was underground), after slipping off his shoes, he noticed two more pairs of shoes.

"Hm? Cless and Hugh are home?" he thought to himself, while walking into the kitchen (the fastest route to his room).

Cless was in a casual, relaxed position at the table, with his feet on them (he only did that when no one else was around), while reading a magazine and eating an apple. He turned one of his eyes to his younger sibling, noticing him.

"Hey squirt, fell in the river again?" he asked, his eye returning to his magazine.

Morty paused before heading into the hallway, "My name's not squirt!" he said without looking at Cless, knowing how much he hated being called squirt.

"By the way squirt, Dad's gonna be home late, so Hugh's making dinner again." He mentioned.

"Better than you making dinner. I wouldn't even trust you with a microwave." Morty returned the squirt insult in full force, while going into his room.

"Ohh. Burn." Cless cringed, throwing the finished apple core into the garbage bin behind him.

Now that he was changed into some dry clothes, the kid threw himself onto his bed. All he did was stare at the ceiling for a few minutes until he sat up, at which point he flipped onto his front, and began to daze off, like he usually did. He was enjoying the silence, for Cless would (eventually) turn on his music at a very high volume.

Pure silence filled for a few minutes, when out of the blue, something landed on his back.

"AAAAAHHH!" he screamed his lungs out, doing a major jump from where he was, falling onto the floor. He turned his head back to see what it was.

"Marre?" A yellow sheep Pokemon, Mareep, replied to his face.

Morty sighed in somewhat relief. "Mareep! What are you doing? You scared me half to death!"

"Reep? Mareep?" The Mareep only said to him.

The Mareep belonged to Cless. He collected Pokemon, but he wasn't planning to be a trainer. Or rather, train them to use instruments. He said that when his Mareep evolved, he'd teach it to play the guitar.

Getting back on his feet threw the Mareep off his back and onto its own. Morty picked it up, and went over to the laundry basket, knowing that Mareep loved going into the laundry and falling asleep in it. (It often shed its wool into the laundry though, and often left behind some static.)

Placing it in the laundry basket, he watched it repeatedly press its feet into the clothes. Eventually, the Mareep just lie down and fell asleep, snoozing away.

Turning back to the direction of his room, Morty noticed that the door to Hugh's room was open, even if was open only by a mere crack.

He decided to take a peek, in which he saw Hugh typing away at his typewriter, listening to headphones. Why he still used a typewriter when he had a word processor on his computer was beyond everyone else, but Hugh seemed to like it more.

Hugh's room wasn't the biggest room in the house, although he didn't seem to mind. He had his bed, a bookcase with books covering topics on literature, and a few dozen novels (particularly fantasy). The notes posted on his walls were all about proper writing techniques, word selections, and common writing mistakes (and correcting them). At the walls were two desks; one with a computer and the other with the typewriter, and a window was between the desks. Hugh wanted to be an author, so it was a no brainer as to why his room was like this.

"Oops." Hugh muttered to himself, after he read over his document and realized he made a mistake. Taking into his hand a small bottle of whiteout, he shook it for a few seconds. Removing the cap, he brushed on some of the liquid in a light layer. He gently blew on the wet spot and put the cap back on. Finishing that, he resumed his typing.

Morty slightly pushed the door, allowing him to enter. When he got to the desk his brother was working on (the one for his typewriter), he simply watched his brother work on his writing until Hugh noticed him out of the corner of his eye. Hugh turned off his music and removed the headphones from his ears.

"Oh, hi Morty." He simply greeted his youngest sibling, facing him.

"Hi." Morty exchanged the greeting.

After a few seconds of silence, Morty asked, "When are you making dinner?"

Reaching for his headphones, he returned to face Morty, "After I finish the rough draft for this, I'll start making dinner, okay?"

Morty nodded and left, heading outside. Cless just turned on his music to his regular volume (which was very high by everyone else's standards), hence why Hugh had his headphones on.

He decided to go to the place he loved to observe the most: The Ecruteak Gym. However, his only way of looking into the gym was through a window, which he needed a nearby rock in order for him to get tall enough to actually look in.

When he got there, the current gym leader, Maxwell, was in the middle of a battle against a foreign Pokemon trainer. Morty didn't know what he admired so much about Maxwell. After all, Maxwell was a middle-aged man who had his white hair in a small ponytail at the back of his head, with one half of his bangs covering the left side of his face, his dark blue eyes standing out. Maybe he liked how he trained ghost Pokemon? How he was honorable?

All of Maxwell's students were watching the battle, and the referee raised one of the flags, indicating that Maxwell's Gastly won the round. The trainer stomped his foot, reluctantly calling back his exhausted Furret, and sent out a proud Quilava, ready to fight. Maxwell kept a close eye on the Quilava.

From what Morty could tell, by the number of holes in the ground, that the opponent loved to use Dig.

Quilava's start was very tense. Gastly simply swerved around the Quilava's attacks, by an inch, probably to annoy the Quilava.

And it worked, with the Quilava appeared to screech at its opponent, breathing smoke out of its mouth. The smoke clouded the vision of those in its range, and the Gastly was no exception. As soon as it cleared out of the area, the Quilava was nowhere to be found.

But there was a hole where it was previously standing. That could only mean one thing: Dig

Gastly quickly followed into the hole, while the Quilava was digging. It was only a matter of time before Gastly forced the Quilava out of its hole, by a forceful Lick, making it jump out prematurely.

Pebbles were scattered across the floor. The Quilava appeared to be very stunned by the surprise Lick, twitching its limbs at random movements. Flames threw up from its back, indicating that it was ready to attack, angrier than ever.

Launching a ball of flames from its mouth, the Gastly swallowed the attack. Most of the people in there were surprised, but Maxwell and Morty have seen the Gastly do it numerous times before.

Suddenly, the Gastly shook for a few seconds, as if something exploded inside of it, and fell to the ground. From the looks of it, the explosion from the Ember caught Gastly off guard, draining it of its energy.

Recalling Gastly back into its ball, Maxwell replaced it with a new ball with special marks decorated onto it. Throwing it, his Misdreavus popped out, and it too was as eager fight as its enemy was.

Copies of the Misdreavus began to fill the arena, surrounding the Quilava. Seeing how it was cornered, the flames began to dance on its back again, spreading around even more smoke than normal.

As the Misdreavus winked, they all flew around the area. Watching them all wander, the Quilava was unsure of its target, and launched a spanning Fire Blast, covering the entire room.

All of the illusions vanished into thin air, yet the original didn't appear to have a scratch. If anything, it was if the Fire Blast didn't touch it.

The Misdreavus charged a Tackle to the Quilava, sending it to the opposite half of the room, facing its trainer. As much as it tried to stand back up, it collapsed in exhaustion.

The trainer, hanging his head low, called back his Quilava. As he slouched over, the referee raised his flag again, signaling Maxwell had won the battle.

Morty hopped off the rock he was on, and began to head back home, thinking that Hugh might be making dinner by now, and if Morty wasn't home, his father would be worried.

When he arrived, it didn't appear that Cless was playing his music at ridiculously high levels, and he could smell a waft of a simple stew coming from the kitchen. He could hear music from the living room, indicating that Cless was busy practicing the piano.

Walking into the living room, Morty soon watched Cless practice one of his more difficult pieces.

If it were one thing Cless inherited from his mother, it would be her love of music. True, she was a concert pianist in the large cities when she was younger. After she came out of surgery for something (his father wouldn't specify the details), she resided in Ecruteak, enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Go away squirt." Cless said to him, keeping his eyes on his music sheet.

"But I haven't done anything yet." Morty protested.

"Exactly."

Morty narrowed his eyes, "Why do you keep picking on me?"

"You're the only one I can pick on."

Turning a small scowl, Morty turned and left, knowing Cless was right. The two brothers never got along very well, and had a very heated rivalry. Cless picked on him, and Morty would have his revenge in the form of sabotaging his dates, and they always countered each other's insults. Their father was very worried about their rivalry going on into their adult lives.

"With friends and siblings like these, who needs enemies?" Hugh rolled his eyes, turning down the oven to let the stew simmer.

Turning to Morty, he said, "Don't let Cless get to you. He's just jealous."

"He always had Mom's attention! Is it any wonder why he's such a mamma's boy!" Cless overheard what Hugh to said Morty and responded.

"Well, if you don't like me so much, then why are YOU my brother?" Morty retorted back to Cless, and left for his room, closing the door.

"Ouch." Cless cringed.

Hugh shook his head, "You can't pick your relatives Morty."


End file.
